


A JL8 Fanfic

by Moment_of_Tangency (orphan_account)



Category: DCU, Justice League
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elementary School, Best Friends, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Male Friendship, You get the idea, jl8 comic, really friendly (at first)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-07 00:06:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Moment_of_Tangency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce has a new friend. Clark is...jealous?</p><p>This is a terrible summary and for that I am sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bat Cave

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the cutest comic about the Justice League as children in elementary school, link: http://jl8comic.tumblr.com/
> 
> READ THE COMIC IT'S SO GREAT YOU WON'T REGRET IT
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is up for adoption if anyone wants to continue where I left off???

"No fair!" Hal whined as Barry whipped up all the jacks and the little rubber ball before it could fall back to the ground again. "You cheated!"

"Nuh uh," Barry said, smirking. He tossed the toys into the air and caught them one-handed, his grin spreading even wider when the other boy crossed his arms and pouted.

"Yeah huh!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Yeah huh!!"

"Nuh uh!!"

"YEAH HUH!!" Hal yelled and he lunged forward, grabbing for the jacks, but Barry moved too quickly, zipping backwards a few feet and holding his hand above his head. He stood there triumphantly as Hal fumed and contemplated the merits of actually giving chase. On the one hand, nobody in the entire school could catch Barry when he didn't want to be caught and Hal didn't want to waste the rest of his recess. On the other, he had only snagged eight jacks on his turn - stupid heat making his palm sweaty - and Barry had gotten all fifteen. Which was unacceptable.

A stiff wind passed between the two children as they glared at each other, leaves rustling on the playground. Barry waved his hand tauntingly, trying to get Hal to lunge for him again, and Hal groaned so loudly that Michael and Ted turned to look at them from their position on the monkey bars. "Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine," he drawled as he began to wander off, just barely keeping from stomping his feet. If Barry actually wanted the chase then he would walk away just to spite him.

Barry teased and needled him but he just kept walking, smiling when Barry finally stuck his tongue out and zipped away – probably to go play jacks by himself. Serves him right; superspeed is so cheating. Nodding to himself, Hal took a look around. Barry might be his best friend but that didn't mean he was going to spend the rest of this recess playing by himself.

Michael and Ted were still on the bars; J'onn, Clark, Shayera, and Billy were playing four square; Diana and Arthur were starting up a game of handball. Nothing Hal was really interested in. He huffed, shuffled his feet, huffed again and was just about to make his way over to the swings to sit with Dinah and Zatanna when something caught his attention. Bruce was sneaking around the school building, his cape flapping mysteriously as he slipped around the corner and out of sight. Hal blinked. There was nothing on that side of the building except the old trailers that used to double as classrooms for the advanced kids and, beyond that, the parking lot. Curiosity peaked, Hal glanced around before casually following after him, humming the mission impossible theme song as quietly as possible. Nobody was looking at him but he was extra careful anyway, waiting to make sure everyone was distracted before he rounded the corner and took off after Bruce.

He could just make out a hand disappearing around the edge of the farthest trailer and, using his ring, he flew after it, making sure to stay a safe distance away and hide every time he thought Bruce might turn around. There were only four trailers in the entire area but Bruce froze at each one as if listening for something. Hal stopped every time, holding his breath as he waited...and then Bruce moved on, darting around corners so fast that Hal had to work to keep up without being seen. Finally Bruce stopped at a trailer door, glancing around one last time before he walked inside. Hal hovered for a moment, waiting to see if anything else would happen, before eventually landing just outside the entrance. He was just about to go in and find out exactly why Bruce was being even stranger than usual when a plastic batarang hit his hand off the knob.

"Ow!" he yelped, rubbing his wrist as he swiveled to face his attacker, ring at the ready. He blinked. It was Bruce. "But how-"

"I knew it was you Hal. Why are you following me? Who are you working for?" Bruce growled menacingly as he strode forward. Hal threw his hands up in surrender, backing up into the door behind him.

"I didn't- No! No one!" Hal blurted. "I saw you go around the corner and I was bored so..."

"Who saw you?"

"Nobody I swear!"

Bruce still didn't look pleased. He paced back and forth a couple times, glancing up to stare at Hal every once and awhile before turning away, until eventually he stopped, evidently having come to a decision. "Go back to the playground," he said curtly. "Make sure no one notices your return and forget this happened."

"What? No way!" Hal argued, crossing his arms. He hadn't come all this way just to be turned back now. If it was a battle of wills, he would definitely win. "What are you hiding in this trailer?" he demanded.

"That's none of your business," Bruce said haughtily as he made to walk away but Hal stopped him, swerving in front of him to block his escape.

"I'll tell!" he threatened ominously. The teachers wouldn't take kindly to hearing one of their students had been playing in an area that was off-limits and they both knew it. Bruce gave him a sharp look - assessing him.

"You're bluffing," he said and Hal began hovering, as if he were planning on flying right back to the school. Bruce scowled. "Fine," he grumbled, "but you have to pinky swear never to tell _anybody anything_ about this place _ever_ , got it?"

"Ok!" Hal agreed excitedly, rushing forward to wrap his pinky with Bruce's. He was just about to let go when Bruce stopped him. Hal looked up. Bruce was staring at him, his face darkening.

"I mean it Hal," he growled. "If you tell anyone then I'll tell the teachers that you were here too and then we'll both be in trouble. So don't tell _anyone_."

Hal swallowed. "Alright I get it," he said, nodding slowly, "I'll never tell anybody anything about this place ever." And he meant it too. When a Green Lantern made a promise, he kept it.

Bruce looked at him for a second longer then turned away, seemingly satisfied with whatever he saw. "Okay then Jordan," he intoned as he made to open the trailer door again, "welcome to the Bat Cave."

-

It was only after the bell signaling the end of recess had rung and Hal and Bruce were making their way back that Hal thought to ask his initial question. He waited until the rest of the kids had passed them and they were at the back of the line before speaking.

"Hey Bruce?" he whispered as discretely as possible.

"Hm?"

"How did you end up behind me?" he asked, genuinely curious. Bruce gave him a questioning look so Hal tried to explain without mentioning the trailer. "You know, when you threw the batarang at me?"

Comprehension dawned on Bruce's face and he chuckled. Hal gaped. This was the first time he had ever seen Bruce, THE Bruce, actually laugh. "Back door. Made it myself."

This time Hal could practically feel his jaw hit the floor. "Made it yourself? Who does that?! "

Bruce turned to look at him as he passed over the threshold into the school, his face once again completely serious. "I'm Batman. I'm always prepared."


	2. Jealous

Clark pouted. There was something different in the classroom dynamic. It was subtle so he couldn't tell what it was exactly that was throwing him off but he knew it had something to do with Bruce and Hal. They had been friends before but it was somehow distinct now, like there was some secret they weren't telling him.

Most of the time they were completely normal - he and Bruce would still talk, hang out, and sit together and Hal was still best friends with Barry as per the usual - but every now and then something suspicious would happen. Sometimes Clark would see them whispering in a corner and approach them only to hear the conversation abruptly stop and see them go their separate ways; sometimes, just before recess when everything was chaos, Hal would sneak Bruce an object - always something random like a videogame or book - and give him a look, then smile and walk away when Bruce sighed and took it; but the weirdest thing of all was their occasional disappearances on the playground. Clark had already gotten used to Bruce's absences - they were irregular and infrequent so he hadn't thought to say anything about them - but now it seemed like whenever Bruce was gone, so was Hal. No one else seemed to have noticed this, but Clark had been Bruce's best friend for years. If there was ever anything going on with him, then Clark was almost always the first to know.

And yet he had no idea what was going on here! He had even tentatively brought it up as they were walking home from school last week but Bruce had only shrugged, feigned disinterest, and changed the subject. It was enough to drive a kid crazy!

In all honesty, Clark wasn't sure why he cared so much. Sure Bruce was his best friend and he was acting kind of strange but Clark had always made a point of being encouraging when Bruce deigned to extend his friend circle. He didn't really know what it was about this situation that made it so different. The only thing he was certain of was that it was getting harder and harder to resist pulling Bruce away whenever he saw him and Hal together. And that would only end in disaster; Bruce _hated_ being manhandled.

The bell rang and Clark sighed. At least school was over now. In a few minutes he would be able to talk to his dad about the whole thing and hopefully figure out what to do next. He floated off his bean bag and flew to the cubbies to grab his bag and wait for Bruce so they could walk home together. Through the influx of kids he could see Bruce talking to Hal - _again?!_ he thought, exasperated - and he frowned.

"Watcha mad about?" a voice asked beside him and Clark jumped. Barry had materialized at his side.

"W-what?! No, I'm not angry," he stuttered, wide eyed. "I'm just...," a pause, there was no way to end that sentence, "it's nothing." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"No way, I saw your face. That was a pretty big frown," Barry insisted, swooping into Clark's vision when he tried to look away. "C'mon you can tell me! Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseeeee!"

"Ok! Ok!" Clark finally said, hushing Barry as he glanced over to where Bruce and Hal were wrapping up their conversation. He had to make this quick - he didn't want either of them to think he was gossiping about them or anything. "Bruce and Hal have been hanging out more lately and I wanna know why," he said as casually as he could.

Barry's eyebrows rose, his gaze flicking from Clark to Bruce and Hal then back again. "What, are you jealous?" he blurted and Clark's eyes flew wide open, bewildered.

"What?! No!" he said quickly - a little too quickly judging by Barry's smug grin - and he glanced over to see Bruce beginning to walk towards them. This conversation needed to be over five seconds ago. "I'm not angry or jealous or anything. I was just curious is all," he explained in a rush but Barry only shrugged.

"Whatever you say," he laughed and then he was gone.

-

"So what were you and Hal talking about?" Clark asked nonchalantly, as a cool breeze ruffled his hair. He had originally planned to wait for Bruce to bring the subject up on his own but already he was starting to feel the burn of impatience at the back of his brain and the cool autumn weather was doing nothing to calm him.

"What are you talking about Clark?" Bruce muttered, fiddling with his belt. He seemed distracted and Clark couldn't tell if it was real or a cleverly disguised ruse to shut down the conversation before it even started. He pushed on anyway.

"You know..." Clark tried, his face starting to flush when Bruce looked up to stare at him, "right before school ended. You guys looked like you were talking about something kinda important." Bruce was still staring at him, and Clark was sure his face was almost completely red now, but he held his ground.

After a moment Bruce turned away and dropped his gaze, pretending to examine his feet, and Clark gaped. He _knew_ something was up; the Batman was never the first to break a staring contest with Clark unless he had something to hide. It was his one and only tell.

"It was nothing," he grumbled, crossing his arms angrily and speaking louder when Clark tried to argue. "It was just something between me and Hal, Clark." he growled irritably, scowl deepening when his friend turned the kicked-puppy face on him. "It didn't have anything to do with you anyway so why do you care so much?"

Clark spluttered, heart stuttering into overtime. Why was everyone saying that? He was experiencing a perfectly normal level of curiosity! There was nothing weird about asking a simple question. Mollified, he floated alongside Bruce, knowing how it agitated the boy. "Best friends should tell each other stuff Bruce!" Clark stated and hoped that the friend card would be enough to guilt Bruce into spilling. No such luck.

"Well what were you and Barry talking about?!" he countered, rounding on Clark who stuttered to a halt.

"What? What does that even-"

"Best friends should tell each other stuff right?" Bruce interrupted, a slow smirk spreading across his features. He thought he had Clark pinned - and he did, but not for the right reason. There was no way Clark was going into depth about his little revelation with Barry. That would only make Bruce angrier.

"You're just trying to change the subject," Clark muttered but he knew the conversation was over. How could he expect Bruce to tell him what he and Hal talked about when he couldn't even admit his own secrets? There was no way someone like Bruce would tolerate such a hypocritical situation. He _knew_ all of this. And yet he still had to push. The possibilities of what Bruce and Hal were hiding were infinite and every single one seemed to be taunting him. Bruce was _his_ friend! Was it wrong to want it to stay that way?

Bruce was looking at him out of the corner of his eye but Clark didn't want him to see him, to read the emotions that must be written so clearly across his face. The white picket fence in front of his house was within sight. He began flying just a little faster.

"I should hurry home," he said, his face turned away, "Ma and Pa are probably waiting-"

Bruce grabbed his arm and force him to stop. Then he turned them so they were face to face. For a moment they simply stood there, Bruce examining him and Clark studiously avoiding his gaze, until finally Bruce spoke up.

"Clark, you _are_ my best friend though," Bruce said, solemn and sincere, and it took a moment but eventually his words registered and Clark looked up, his smile so wide and bright that it actually made Bruce's lips quirk up too. It was so rare for Bruce to open up like this. Clark couldn't help freaking out a little.

"I know," he said warmly, trapping the boy in a tight hug. "You're my best friend too," Clark murmurred against Bruce's neck and nuzzled closer, practically purring when a hand came up to stroke his hair. They stood there pressed against each other for a long couple of seconds and then Bruce was squirming out of his grasp and smoothing down his cape, gruff as usual. Clark smiled. "Thanks Bruce. See you tomorrow?"

Bruce didn't smile but Clark could sense his eyes softening. "See you tomorrow Clark," he said and then he was walking down the street to his mansion. Clark watched him go, floating on cloud nine, and then his mother was calling him into the house with the promise of a warm pie and ice cream to settle the butterflies in his stomach.

-

They had been relaxing together on the couch for a while before Clark spoke up. "Pa?" he asked, twirling his fingers.

"Hm?" his father answered, still somewhat absorbed in what was happening on the TV screen.

"I have...this friend," Clark began. Before he could even finish his sentence, his dad was shutting off the tv and turning to face him, one questioning eyebrow raised. They looked at each other for a second, two seconds, then Clark sighed and threw his hands up. "Ok fine! _I_ have this problem," he admitted as pink began to tinge his cheeks.

His dad simply nodded and waited so Clark soldiered on, determined to finish what he had started.

"There's this person that I know," he said hesitantly. "I've known them for a long time and we're really close."

"A person huh?" his father repeated absentmindedly. Clark nodded. The man scratched his chin as he let that sink in, then he sat up. "Well that sounds like the opposite of a problem to me son," he drawled, a smile flitting over his features, but Clark was already shaking his head.

"No Pa, that's not-" he blurted, but then he stopped himself. He sat for a moment, thinking about what he wanted to say, before starting up again. "It's just that lately, this person's been hanging out with another boy," he explained quietly, keeping his eyes on his hands, "and no matter how many times I ask, they won't tell me what they do together."

"And that upset you?"

Clark nodded. A moment of silence passed and he glanced up at his father.

 "Is it bad to want things to go back to the way they were?" he asked. "You know, before they started hanging out with someone else?" He was fidgeting with his cape now, twisting it between his fingers. He wasn't quite sure if he meant his questions to be rhetorical or not but his pa was smiling at him, a comforting arm thrown around his shoulder, so he figured the answer couldn't be too bad.

"It's not bad son, everyone wants that sooner or later," he chuckled and the boy smiled back at him relieved.

"Oh," he breathed, happy to know his feelings were completely normal after all, and he was just getting ready to thank his dad for the talk when a hand patted him on the back and drew his attention.

"But" he declared as he looked Clark straight in the eye, "it sounds to me like you're jealous." Then he winked.

Clark's face was on fire by the time he made it to the safety of his room.


	3. Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why does everyone keep thinking I'm jealous?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update, had a little bit of writer's block :)  
> Hope you like it!

"Alfred!" Bruce called as they entered the mansion's enormous kitchen. There was a quiet, dignified shuffle as a couple of dishes were laid out on the rack to dry and then the butler was in front of them with a tray full of fresh cookies.

"Yes Master Bruce?" he asked as he moved around them to set the snacks on the living room table, the two boys following closely behind him. They climbed into their seats and Alfred turned back to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of milk. He sat them on the table as he awaited his orders.

"Clark's sleeping over tonight," Bruce informed him as he finished a bite of his cookie, washing it down with milk.

"If that's alright with you," Clark interjected with a quick, disapproving glance across the table. Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Please," he added dutifully and both Clark and Alfred gave him a warm smile.

"That would be lovely Master Clark," the butler agreed, turning to his guest who beamed back at him, a milk moustache on his upper lip.

"Thank you Alfred!" the boys chirped in unison and Alfred bowed to them both, his eyes twinkling as he entered the kitchen once more to finish washing the dishes. It was always nice when Bruce decided to bring his friends home. The mansion could get so lonely at times, even for a wizened old butler and his eight year old charge.

-

Spiderman 3 was just beginning on TV. A couple of minutes and sorrowful puppy eyes later, Clark had convinced Bruce that it was the perfect thing to watch on their sleepover and they had settled into the couch with popcorn, blankets, and hot chocolate provided by Alfred. As stubborn as Bruce had been about the whole thing, he soon became invested in the movie, too busy to notice Clark's furtive glances. For this Clark was extremely grateful. He wanted to think in peace and the last thing he needed was for Bruce to notice his preoccupation.

He glanced back to the screen and sighed. It had been three days ago that he had talked to his pa about the situation with Bruce and he _still_ couldn't get the conversation out of his mind. His father wasn't wrong about a lot of things but this had to be one of them. There was no way he was jealous of Hal! Or, at least, not the way his dad had implied. Bruce was his best friend. It wasn't like he thought he had a claim on him or anything. He was just feeling left out that's all. Clark frowned and shook his head. He was obsessing so hard it was giving him a headache. Sliding off the couch, Clark excused himself and headed back to the kitchen where he could hear Alfred preparing another pot of cocoa. He needed one last outside opinion and who better to give it than the man who knew Bruce the best?

"Alfred?" he whispered, careful not to be heard over the background music of the movie.

"Yes Master Clark?" the butler asked, swirling his spoon through the thick chocolate.

"Can I talk to you about something?"

Alfred set the pot to simmer then turned, gesturing for Clark to take a seat at the little kitchen nook to the side of the counter. The boy complied, the butler right behind him. As they sat, Clark tried to come up with something to say that didn't make him seem pathetic or immature. He was still thinking when Alfred spoke up, his voice just as low as Clark's had been.

"Does this have anything to do with Master Bruce?" he asked and Clark startled, his eyes widening.

"How did you know?!" he spluttered but the butler merely held a finger to his lips. They both listened for a second but neither one heard the pattering of eight year old feet and eventually Alfred began speaking again.

"Just the other day Master Bruce mentioned something about best friends telling each other everything," he explained calmly. "I concluded that he must be referring to you, sir." At Clark's hesitant nod, he continued. "If I may, I believe that, as close as you are to Master Bruce, there will always be pieces of his life that he may be reluctant to share, no matter their importance. He has always been a secretive child; however, in all my time as his caregiver, I have never seen Master Bruce as open with anyone else as he is with you Master Clark," he murmured, his eyes soft and warm.

Clark blushed. He knew that he and Bruce were close. He knew that Bruce considered him to be his best friend, and that in itself was saying a lot. But he had never, in his entire life, dared to imagine the kind of trust and vulnerability that Alfred was affirming he had with Bruce. He was so stunned that he couldn't react for a moment. At some point, he became self-conscious enough to realize he had a dazed grin on his face. Then he was zooming across the table and hugging Alfred.

"Thank you Alfred!" he chirped and the butler smiled, giving him a brief but warm hug back. And then the older man was straightening out the younger’s clothes, fussing over nearly nonexistent wrinkles, and Clark's heart swelled because if that wasn't love then what was?

Finally Alfred straightened, standing up to walk the boy to the kitchen threshold. In the TV room, Bruce was still watching the movie, completely oblivious, and Alfred bent over to look into Clark's eyes.

"That being said Master Clark," he whispered, "many people would feel similarly to you were they in your shoes, so to speak." At Clark's confused head tilt, Alfred cleared his throat. "What I am trying to say, sir, is that it is ok to be jeal-"

He didn't even get to finish his sentence.

" _Why does everyone keep thinking I'm jealous?!_ "


	4. What next?

That night, long after he had lain out his sleeping bag and Bruce had fallen asleep, Clark lay awake thinking. It had been a nightmare trying to convince his best friend, and possibly one of the world’s sharpest minds, that he had been asking for Alfred’s advice concerning a problem with Diana but he had succeeded and, eventually, they had both returned their attention to the movie. But Clark hadn’t been able to focus, his mind constantly replaying and analyzing what Alfred had said. On the one hand, the butler had also confirmed that Clark’s feelings were completely normal and, to a certain degree, expected so there was no need to worry about being weird. But on the other hand, there was a needling voice in the back of his mind that insisted that if Barry, his father, _and_ Alfred could read him so easily, then it was likely that others could too. Others, in this case, referring to Bruce. Clark shuddered. He hated to think what Bruce’s reaction might be if he found out; no matter what it couldn’t be good.

Clark huffed and rolled onto his side. In the end, he hadn’t been able to concentrate on the movie at all and, before he knew it, Bruce was getting up to shut the TV off and suggesting that they play a board game. Clark had agreed even though his heart wasn’t in it and after Bruce had caught him staring at a wall three times, gaze unfocused, he had packed up the game and manhandled Clark up the stairs to bed.

And with all that rumination, he had only just managed to come to terms with his own jealousy. He couldn’t keep lying to himself just because he felt embarrassed, and there was no other explanation for what he was feeling. But now that he had gotten over that hurdle, he suddenly found himself facing a new, even greater dilemma. _What to do next._

Clark groaned. Why did life have to be so hard?

-

In the morning Clark stayed for Alfred’s world-famous pancakes and then said his goodbyes. With everything that was on his mind at the moment, he wasn’t sure if he could stay any longer without Bruce getting suspicious of his odd behavior. And it _was_ odd; all Clark could think about was what his next move should be now that he could admit he was jealous. It wasn’t like he had never experienced the emotion before – he was jealous of plenty of things. Wasn’t everybody? But he had never felt anything like what he was feeling with Bruce and Hal. This was intense and long-lasting and made all his other occasional experiences of envy petty in comparison. And he didn’t know how to deal with it or even who was the best person to talk to. He had already talked to his father and Alfred. Who else was there to turn to?

He thought for a moment, going through his entire list of friends, before slapping himself in the forehead. _Of course!_ he thought, shaking his head at his own thoughtlessness. _I asked my pa but I forgot to ask my ma!_ And, before he had even finished the thought, he was flying at super speed to his house to relay the problem to her.

Trees, cars, and the sidewalk whipped by beneath him and in no more than a couple seconds he had arrived at his own front porch, not even out of breath. He hurried inside, checking each room and calling out simultaneously in his excitement until his mother rushed in from the kitchen looking frazzled.

“What is it Clark?” she asked but even as she talked Clark was dragging her towards the living room sofa in front of the TV. He patted the cushion as he jumped up himself, a brief staccato rhythm on the fabric, indicating that she should sit. She watched him for a moment, confused, before slowly lowering herself and turning her whole body to face him. Whatever he wanted to talk about, it must be important if he was this excited. A couple seconds passed without either of them saying a word and just when Martha thought he was going to change his mind and walk up the stairs to his room, Clark spoke.

“I’m jealous,” he stated, then let out a big gust of air as if those two words had been clogging his throat and finally saying them had allowed him to breathe. Martha felt her eyebrow raise and tried to school her expression. There was no sense passing judgment until she knew the whole story. Instead she nodded and waited for Clark to continue – except that there didn’t seem to be anything else forthcoming. He was looking at her expectantly, as if just that admission were enough to explain the entire situation. They sat in silence for a moment…and then Martha caved, giving into her curiosity.

“Jealous of what, honey?” she prompted as gently as possible; Clark looked as if even the tiniest noise might startle him off like a deer into the woods, never to be seen again. He was fidgeting nonstop, even squirming in his seat a little, and Martha laid a comforting hand on his knee to still him. “You can tell me,” she promised, her eyes warm.

Clark managed a small, nervous smile and nodded, relaxing a little into the sofa back. And then he told her the entire story, making sure to leave nothing out, not even the names. He told her about Bruce and Hal’s behavior and when he had first noticed something strange between them. He told her about his conversation with Bruce later and him admitting that Clark was his best friend. And, most importantly, he told her what Barry, his father, _and_ Alfred had all tried to get through his thick skull: the fact that he was jealous of Hal for sharing a secret with Bruce that Clark didn’t know about.

Through all of it, his mother didn’t say a word, only nodding her head and making sympathetic noises through the particularly embarrassing parts. And at the end she smiled and ran her fingers through Clark’s hair, tickling his scalp, while she thought about what to say. After a moment, he smiled along with her, content to let her do as she pleased. His ma would come up with the right answer. She always did.

“Honey,” she finally said, turning her gaze down from the ceiling to look him in the eyes, “I’m sorry that you’re jealous. I know it’s not the best feeling in the world to have.” At that, Clark nodded, his expression becoming somewhat bittersweet. Martha wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder and squeezed before continuing. “And, I’m sorry to say, there’s no easy answer.”

“What?!” Clark yelped, his entire body tensing. But before he could say anything else, she shushed him, rubbing soothing circles into his back until it relaxed again. She waited until he had completely calmed down and she was sure she wouldn’t be interrupted before she resumed speaking.

“Jealousy is different for every person, dear,” she admitted. “And sometimes, no matter how much we want it not to be true, we can’t always get what we want.” Then she paused, looking him up and down. Clark looked crestfallen, and he had wilted further and further into the couch with every word. She smiled. “However…” she started, chuckling at the way Clark perked up, “if I know you and Bruce at all, and I think I do, there’s no doubt that you too will get through this and your relationship will be all the better for it.”

“Really?” Clark whispered and Martha laid a quick kiss on his forehead, hugging him tight.

“Really,” she assured him. “All you have to do is be completely honest with him.”

“But Ma!” he protested. How could she suggest he tell Bruce everything?! Didn’t she know the boy at all?! There was no way Bruce would listen to him, and even if he did there was no guarantee that revealing his feelings would change anything. In fact, the best case scenario was Bruce shrugging him off. He didn’t even want to think about what might happen in the worst case. He tried to convey this with his eyes, pleading with her not to make him do this, to give him _any_ other advice but that. But she only shook her head, resolute.

“No buts,” she declared. “He’s your best friend, you owe it to him to tell him the truth. That’s what you want him to do for you right?” Clark looked away, down to the couch cushion to pull at a bit of loose thread, and Martha softened, touching his chin to turn his head towards her. “Right?” she prompted gently, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“…Right,” he murmured and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

“I know it’s hard honey, but doing the right thing usually is.”

-

“Good afternoon. Wayne Residence.”

“Hey Alfred, it’s Hal. Can I talk to Bruce?”

“One moment sir,” Alfred responded, covering the phone’s speaker as he addressed his charge. “Master Hal is on the line.” At his curt nod and hurried thanks, Alfred turned over the phone to him and resumed cooking at the stove.

In the meantime, Bruce jumped from his stool and padded up the stairs to his room, not saying a word until he had secured the door behind him. “What is it Hal?” he asked as he sat on his bed and began gathering his things. He knew exactly what Hal wanted, now it was just a matter of choosing what items he wanted to pack.

“I was thinking we could play the new Starfox game, you know the one?”

Bruce grunted and Hal snickered; they both knew he didn’t have a clue what he was talking about – space games were clearly more of Hal’s expertise than anyone else’s. But getting Bruce to admit that was like pulling teeth. Besides, he didn’t want to risk Bruce getting angry and refusing to go with him to the Bat Cave. Knowing him, the trailer would probably be rigged with all sorts of booby traps that only the Batman would be able to unlock, and Hal really didn’t feel like being helpless for hours on end until Bruce finally took pity on him…if he ever did. In fact, it was probably a good idea to actually make it worth his while to come along.

“We can play Spiderman too,” he offered. He knew Bruce wouldn’t be able to resist that, it was his favorite game. He listened to the silence on the other end as he began his mental countdown. _10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4…._

“Meet me there in 10 minutes.” And he hung up.

Hal grinned, shaking his head as he put the phone back on the hook. _3, 2, 1_ he finished as he flew down the stairs to tell his mom.


	5. Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm updating this more than a year after the last chapter. I don't know what inspired me to start again, I thought I had written it all out of my system and lost interest, but I'm going to be updating for a while again. And next time, if I lose interest, I'll let everyone know that the work is on hiatus rather than just disappearing without a word. Sorry!

They met up in front of the chain link fence that separated the school trailers and parking lot from the street. Hal had already been there when Bruce arrived, a backpack filled with comic books and food dangling from his shoulder. Bruce hitched up his own pack as he greeted him and prepared to climb over the fence.

"You don't have to do that you know," Hal told him, " I could just lift you up." He flashed his ring a little, letting a little more of the green glow seep into the air as if to illustrate his point. Bruce shook his head at him.

"No need," he grunted, thrusting his backpack at Hal while he eyed the fence to look for potential hand and footholds. Hal rolled his eyes but took the bag. He was fairly sure Bruce would say that when he offered but there was no harm in asking. 

He waited while Bruce jumped, wiggling and stretching his way up and over onto the other side then flew over himself. It was a short walk to the trailer but it took twice as long as it should have as they bobbed and weaved their way around all the others and stopped every couple of seconds to make sure that nobody was watching them. When they were sure the coast was clear, Bruce opened the door and let them both inside, taking one last look around before closing it. 

"Finally," Hal crowed as he rushed over to the corner with the TV, "I've been waiting for this all weekend." He turned on the console sitting in front of it and grabbed a controller, plopping down on one of the nearby pillows and turning to look at Bruce expectantly. Bruce sighed, cracking the blinds of another window to let some light in before moving to sit next to Hal. He took his controller just as the title menu popped up, proclaiming Starfox in big capital letters.

"Okay but then we're playing Spiderman," he said.

They played like that for a couple of hours, switching between video games and munching on the snacks that Hal had brought with him. Every once in a while, Bruce would sneeze or sniffle and Hal would glance at him out of the corner of his eye, a question on the tip of his tongue, but Bruce would shut him down with a quick glare and they would turn back to the game in silence. If Bruce didn't want to admit that he was sick, then that was fine with Hal; he was content to let anything slide as long as they kept playing a little longer. Eventually, though, they got tired of staring at the screen and broke off to do their own things. Hal took out his comic books and settled down to read while Bruce scouted the perimeter from the inside of the trailer...or whatever it was he was doing. Hal wasn't paying him any attention, content to let Bruce do whatever it was he felt he needed a Batcave to do in the first place. But, after the third Batarang went sailing through the air, bounced off the wall and landed near his head, he had to speak up.

"What are you doing?" he asked, picking up the weapon. This was the first time he had seen it up close and had the time to inspect it and he wanted to see his fill. He turned the Batarang over and over in his hands, poking the edges to see how sharp it was, and then Bruce was right in front of him and plucking it out of his hands.

"Target practice," he told him, sniffling as he turned back around to march to his corner and resume practicing.

Hal got up and wandered closer, curiosity peaked. "Can I try?" 

Bruce eyed him for a moment and then turned away. "Nope."

"Why not?!" Sneeze.

"It takes concentration and skill, and you have neither." Sniffle.

Hal opened his mouth to respond and then stopped, mulling it over. He was pretty sure he'd just been insulted. He scowled and Bruce shot him a smug smirk. "I do too have skill," he snapped. "More skill then the rest of our class combined! Barry, J'ohnn, Clark, Diana, Karen-"

Bruce's eyes snapped to his at that and his Batarang bounced ineffectually off the wall. Hal startled.

"What? What'd I say?" he yelped but Bruce didn't answer, just stared him down. He thought back to the last thing he said, trying to figure out why Bruce was giving him that look all of a sudden. "Was it Karen? That I said I had more skills than her?" 

Bruce didn't answer but he looked away under the guise of rubbing his nose and Hal had a moment of stunning clarity.

"It is, isn't it? Why? Do you like her? Is that it?" he asked, questions falling out like rapid fire. He could tell he was getting on Bruce's nerves, every question edging him closer and closer to a full-on fit, but he couldn't stop his curiosity. "I didn't know you  _could_ like people. Other than Clark obviously," he babbled and Bruce lunged at him. He squeaked and flew out of his reach, hovering in the top corner of the trailer.

"Get back here Jordan!" Bruce yelled and Hal shook his head.

"So you can attack me?! No thanks," he called. Bruce growled and whirled around to swipe a Batarang off the floor and fling it at Hal, smacking him in the head. 

"Ow! Gah- stop! Ouch- truce! TRUCE!" Hal yelled as he attempted to evade the barrage of weapons now flying at him. There was a pause in the onslaught while Bruce watched and waited for him to continue, Batarang at the ready.

"I'm sorry, I won't say anything, to you or anyone else, so you can stop trying to kill me," Hal continued, breathing heavily. "Deal?"

There was a moment of silence where they both seemed to be sizing each other up, and then Bruce let the Batarang fall to his side. "...Deal." he finally conceded and Hal floated down to the floor exhausted.

"Geez, I feel like I could sleep for a week now," he muttered into the silence. After a moment, Bruce sneezed his assent.

-

This was it. Today was the day that Clark was going to tell Bruce. Clark groaned and floated along, feet just barely dragging along the ground. He probably looked like a half-dead balloon but he couldn't muster up enough energy to speed to school like he usually did. He was too anxious; there was just no way that this could end well. His mind was doing nothing but going around in circles, coming up with nightmare scenarios where Clark told Bruce everything and Bruce either laughed in his face, got angry at him, or just dismissed him with barely a glance. Sometimes all three when his brain was being particularly creative. And even then Clark had a niggling feeling that the reality would no doubt be much worse.

He sighed. It wouldn't stop him from trying though. No matter what the result, he owed it to his mom to trust her advice and at least make the attempt. With his resolve strengthened, Clark straightened out his shoulders and picked up his speed a little. He could see the double doors of the school building coming up in the distance and all of the other children making their way inside under the watchful eyes of their parents. He didn't let himself falter.  _The faster I do this, the sooner it will be over_ he reasoned as he joined the crowd filing through the entryway. He repeated it like a mantra as he walked to his classroom, each footfall sounding loud and clear to his own ears even around the noise of the other kids, and stopped in front of the door. He stood there looking at it for a second or two then opened it fast, like ripping off a band-aid.

As soon as it was out of the way, his eyes scanned the room and he took a hesitant step inside. Bruce's seat was empty. He must not have gotten to school yet. He felt his heart stutter with relief inside his chest for a moment, but, as he made his way to his seat, his nerves washed back over him again. What was he going to say? Or, more accurately, how was he going to say it in a way that didn't sound stupid? His drummed his fingers on his legs as he thought, glancing at the other people at his table as he did so. Ted and Michael were sitting huddled to his left, whispering feverishly about something . He only spared them a cursory glance and then moved on to watch Shayera across the table politely chatting with J'ohnn while, to the left of them, Barry was busy being distracted by Hal. He did a double take. Didn't Hal normally sit between Barry and J'ohnn? He was positive he did - everyone knew he'd basically claimed a permanent seat next to the Martian, probably so they could talk about space together or something. Sure there were days when Hal switched it up but it couldn't just be a coincidence that he had managed to plant himself right next to Bruce's seat?

Clark shook his head. Of course that wasn't the case, it was obviously just an accident. Hal must've just gotten to class too late to get his normal seat and settled for taking the empty one next to Barry. It was just a fluke that that had happened to be right next to Bruce and if it weren't for Clark's hyper-awareness he probably wouldn't even have noticed it. He nodded to himself and forced his gaze away...and straight to Karen across the room at another table. She was giving him a strange look over Ted's shoulder and she wiggled her fingers and smiled at him as soon as their eyes met. Clark blanked. For a moment he spaced out, his brain trying to make sense of what he had just seen, and then he ducked his head down. Was Karen...flirting with him? How could he have not noticed that little development? Sure, he and Karen weren't that close and he was normally too distracted by Bruce to actually be all that observant but still...He chanced another glance in her direction and quickly turned away again. He could practically see the pink cartoon hearts dancing around her head as she looked at him and that was a can of worms that he just didn't want to open right then. He swiveled his head to look at the clock instead and startled. Class was going to start in two minutes and Bruce still hadn't arrived.  Where was he?

"If you're talking about Bruce, he's home sick right now," Hal said and it took Clark a second to realize he had said that last part out loud. Then what Hal said registered.

"How do you know that?" he asked, trying to keep the suspicion out of his voice. Barry was looking between the two of them with a knowing expression and Clark had to work to ignore him and the self-consciousness that his attention brought. Hal blinked at him and shrugged.

"Just a feeling," he answered easily. "Besides, what else could it be?"

He was opening his mouth to reply, because obviously it could be any multitude of things but Hal had seemed pretty  _positive_ , when the bell rang and Mr. Schwartz walked into the room. Hal turned away from him to focus on the teacher and Clark gripped his seat hard enough to crack it. If it was true and Bruce really _was_ sick, then he was going to have to deal with his nerves for the _entire_ school day and here Hal was making it worse by flaunting this new secret in front of him. Because it had to have involved _some_ kind of secrecy; the kid had answered without a second's thought, and been way too sure for it to have been a guess. So that was something  _else_ that Bruce hadn't told Clark. He frowned to himself, simultaneously irritated beyond belief and hurt. He knew he was being stupid and that the jealousy was getting to him but he couldn't help it. The secrets between them were starting to mount up. 

Suddenly he heard a hissing noise to his left and he looked up. Ted was looking back at him, wary but concerned.

"You okay?" he whispered and Clark realized his emotions must be showing on his face again. He quickly glanced around but none of the others seemed to have noticed him with everyone so busy watching Mr. Schwartz drawing on the chalkboard. He turned back to Ted and nodded, a half-hearted smile on his face, but didn't say anything else. After a moment, Ted returned the gesture and let him have his privacy. He appreciated that; Ted was a nice kid, of course he would be understanding. Clark let that appreciation lift him out of his own thoughts for a while, just trying not to think of anything.

And then it occurred to him that Bruce hadn't been showing any sign of being sick during their sleepover but Hal had still known before anyone else. Didn't that mean they were hanging out over the weekends too?

Clark didn't bother trying to improve his mood after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the new chapter. Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry the title is so unoriginal, I really didn't know what to call this.


End file.
